Nightmares
by Mazuku
Summary: A brief moment of terror leads to something Kisame never expected. ItaKisa, oneshot.


If there was one thing about Itachi that puzzled Kisame, is was how animated he became when he slept. He would toss and turn, moan and writhe, a worried expression on his paper-pale face. Nightmares, night after night, little cries and quiet utterances. Tears, once, like glass frozen to his icy cheeks. Kisame was always torn between wanting to know just what was in Itachi's dreams and not wanting to understand what went through Itachi's twisted little mind as he slept.

He was at it now, sprawled out on his bed with a worried frown on his face. "No…" He whispered. "No, no, no…" The usual vague pleas to anonymous people, a hand raising towards something invisible. It wasn't surprising, really, when you gave it some thought. Behind Itachi's pretty, indifferent face there was a mind so sick and screwed up that it was a wonder he could even sleep at all.

"Father, no!"

That was new. The demons never usually had a name. Of course, Kisame had always known Itachi hated his family. He'd killed them, after all. From what Itachi delicately inferred he'd become tired of being held back by their strict rules and restrictive hierarchy and so had plotted his infamous massacre. Kisame had never thought there could be any more to it, but…

"Leave me alone!"

Had Itachi's father been…that way?

"No! No…no…" Itachi's skin was glossed with sweat as he kicked away his duvet, scrunching in on himself, covering his head. He looked like a defenceless little child, as hard as it was to imagine Itachi as ever having been defenceless. The way he behaved, you'd think he'd been born holding a knife and some garrotting wire. Though if he _had_ been molested as a kid, it would certainly explain why he was such a psycho. But then, Kisame was sure a lot more kids were molested than went nuts and killed everyone around them.

"I don't want to be…no, I don't want to be special…" Itachi contorted suddenly, folding his arms across his front, grasping his shoulders, nails tearing into his skin. The sudden sight of the blood had Kisame on his feet, intrigued and apprehensive. This was different. Itachi had never hurt himself when he was asleep before. Sure, he'd sometimes fallen out of bed or slammed his hand off something flailing about, but nothing like this. "I don't want to be special!" Itachi was sobbing now, fierce nails carving crimson grooves into his upper arms.

Definitely not good. Itachi's chest was heaving, his cheeks wet with tears and his legs tangled in the blankets. The blood from his arms was dribbling down onto the sheets, stark against their clean whiteness, against the porcelain paleness of his skin. Kisame had never seen pain etched more deeply on his face. On anyone's face, for that matter…

He edged closer, worried. He couldn't leave Itachi like that, but he didn't want to interfere in his nightmare world. Who knew what might happen if he woke him up suddenly?

He steeled himself, setting his feet wide apart for balance, and reached out to grab Itachi's thin wrists. "Itachi-san. Itachi. Wake up. Itachi!" Itachi's eyes finally snapped open, rolling all around him in wild confusion. With a huge gasp for breath he fought against Kisame's grip, shaking his arms weakly. "Itachi, it's me!"

"Kisame. Kisame." With another gulp of air Itachi was sitting up, his face pressed to the junction of Kisame's neck and shoulder. Now it was Kisame's turn to falter, his grip on Itachi fading to nothing. Slim, fine hands settled like butterflies on his forearms, and his whole world shook.

They stayed frozen in place for less than a minute. To Kisame it seemed like an eternity. And then slowly, insidiously, like a creeping poison, Itachi's hands started to move up his arms. They seemed to burn as they rose higher and higher, robbing Kisame of his breath. Eventually they reached his shoulderblades, gently, gently pulling him closer.

Kisame offered no resistance, lulled by the tender persuasion of Itachi's splayed fingers. He leaned in close, dropping one knee to the mattress to keep his balance and tilting Itachi closer, folding his arms around his quivering frame. He could feel Itachi's ribs with one hand, and his spine with the other.

They were two blind men, fumbling slowly in the darkness, unsteady, uneasy and unable to break away. Kisame felt something twist in his stomach, something raw, something painful and beautiful. And then Itachi was moving, uncoiling like a snake to kneel up before him until their faces were level. Kisame swallowed nervously as their gazes locked, captivated by the moonlight reflected in his dark, damp eyes.

"Itachi…" He spoke in a hushed whisper without really knowing why. All he knew was that this was different. Everything between them was different, now. He held Itachi closer, lowering them both to the bed. It felt so unreal, so alien, to move so gently. He was not a gentle man, or tender, or caring, but he was holding Itachi as if he were some precious thing that needed to be protected. He sighed softly, running his finger down Itachi's cheek, shifting so that their chests pressed together tightly.

Itachi was still shaking, or was it just another kind of shaking? Was he feeling as jittery as Kisame was? As weak and craven and…needy? He stared into Itachi's endless brown eyes for a few seconds more then dropped his head, chapped lips pressing up against full, youthful ones. In an instant, all the timidity was gone. The gentleness became aggression, the comfort became desperation, and the nervousness became desire. Kisame moaned as Itachi writhed beneath him and grabbed at his hair, breaking the kiss to lap at the congealing blood on Itachi's arm before crushing their lips together again.

Itachi whimpered, jerking his hips upwards helplessly. Was Itachi a virgin, still? It was a possibility. Kisame had never seen him show any interest in anyone else, male or female. He obviously wanted it, though, and that was enough.

It was messy and clumsy, just two broken people trying desperately to be fixed, to find something, someone. A moment of weakness, giving in to the desperate pain of their damaged souls, a few minutes of reaching for a few seconds of pleasure. They collapsed to the bed, a panting tangle of limbs, close, clutching.

"You will never tell anyone." Itachi's voice held no emotion, but his fingers dabbled Kisame's hair fondly across the pillow. Kisame was tired, now, confused – was he talking about the nightmare or the sex? Full of tender feelings towards the warm body couched against him, he nuzzled behind Itachi's ear, sighing. "No. I won't." He closed his eyes as Itachi snuggled back against his chest, and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

When he woke up in the morning he was in bed alone. He was soon sure he'd imagined the whole thing. After all, they were both…them both. There was no chance that what he'd dreamt up in the dead of the night could have been real, it was obviously just a sleepy fantasy that needed to be quickly forgotten.

The door clattered and Itachi walked back into their room, dressed in his usual clothes, but without his cloak. And Kisame found that he could remember those taut thighs crushing his waist, and he could feel that impossibly soft skin against his calloused hands. Vividly.

It had happened.

It had really happened, hadn't it?

He watched Itachi pick up the knives he'd left on the counter and stow them about his person discreetly. "Itachi…about last night…"

Itachi didn't reply. He didn't even turn, for a while, too busy hiding a knife up his right sleeve. When he did turn, finally, there was no hint of recognition on his face, just his usual blank expression. He walked towards the bed, his movements falling into a smooth prowl that graduated into a gentle stoop, his palm coming to rest flat on Kisame's chest. He leaned down and kissed his partner softly, drawing back as blank as ever. "Tonight," He whispered, the same gentle whisper that had seized Kisame's throat the night before. For a second his eyes held something they didn't usually, a promise, a plea, but then he turned away. For a moment he stood, seeming to compose himself, and then he started to walk away leaving Kisame to follow, reeling.

Everything had changed, that was certain. He just hoped that it had changed for the better.


End file.
